


Here's where the story ends

by Pameluke



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: F/M, Prostitution, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/pseuds/Pameluke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcia had always loved stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's where the story ends

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of a girl who grew up as a slave and was sold into prostitution. There's nothing graphic here at all, but the things that happen to Marcia are pretty bad, and start when she's underage, so be aware.
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr, edited slightly.  
> Title from the song by The Sundays.

If she did her chores without complaining for an entire day, her mother used to tell her stories. They were all the same, Gods causing mayhem and heroes having adventures, and by the time she was 10 she knew them all by heart, but she never did complain because she loved them. Her favorites were those about Diana. Not because she was the patroness of slaves, but because she was a huntress and walked through forests and traveled.

Marcia longed to travel, to know how the world was beyond the walls of the house she was born to.

When she was twelve her breasts started to show and her chores changed. Or rather, not so much changed as added to. She still cleaned pots and floors, but when Dominus’ sons felt like it, she warmed their beds or pleased their friends. Her mother stopped telling her stories, said she was too old for them now. But the other girls liked to gossip, and gossip was just another kind of tales, and she enjoyed that as well. There was less wonder to be had though, since gossip always focused on those inside the house, never on what happened elsewhere.

When she was 15 she was sold to a whore-house. No more chores, and many more men, but Marcia didn’t really mind. Her body was never hers to begin with, and she was pretty enough for her master to warn of visitors of roughening her up too much, so the men weren’t too bad. And they had been to places. Traveled the world. Had been beyond Capua. She learned to recognize the different accents, of men of the city, men of Rome, men of the provinces. If she satisfied them well enough they’d sometimes share words with her, tell her where they’d been, and Marcia loved that most of all.

She still loved stories of Gods and heroes, still knew them by heart, but she loved the stories of people who had traveled themselves more.

Then the whispers started. At first she wasn’t really interested, because she’d learned everything about Capua that there was to learn, and there were so many other interesting places to hear about. But the whispers lingered, of a God of the Arena, who’d rebelled and defied the Romans and went away. And Marcia longed.

And then she met a legend, who fucked her like a God, who told her not to listen to the whispers, not to speak of it, for her own safety. But he could walk out of the whore-house, he could go where he pleased. He was once a slave and now free. Free to travel, to see the world.

And she could not stay silent. Because she wanted to walk the forests like Diana, and be free.


End file.
